Her and I

TW: Quick mention of death.

Oh dear. Why is she crying now?

And at someone's grave?

I step on a few flowers as I run toward her, feeling so heavy for some reason but I manage to get to her just as she turns her head in my direction and I hug her.

She doesn’t throw her arms around me as I expected, being her solace in every other situation, but harshly pushes me away yelling: “Who are you?!”

What does she mean it’s me I-

I reach toward her and notice my hand is bigger and has rough skin around my nails, which are short, for a difference.

My eyes skim the rest of my body and I notice my jeans are different, weirdly hugging my calves, and  going up my legs there is absolutely nothing in my glute area, and I have a-

“I asked who are you, sir?” I look at her and her eyes are red, swollen from crying, and she has a tired, very confused and now angry look on her face.

“It’s me I-“

Did she just say sir?

Oh-

Oh.

On the gravestone it says Alexandra Gardner.

She is crying for Alexandra Gardner.

And I am not her. Anymore. Obviously.

If it was the right time I would’ve said I told you so but it’s most definitely not.

“I- Amelia it’s me.” I still, illogically try to explain.

A little part of my heart breaks when her eyes widen and she flinches at the sound of her name coming from my mouth, when it feels like just yesterday she was whispering how it’s her favorite sound in the entire world.

“Lexi.”

She is still for a moment before she cries: “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No, no you know I would never joke about-“

“And who are you?” she cuts me off.

“Amelia, listen I-“

“How do you know my name?” she wipes away a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Because I am Lexi, it’s just, I am in this whole other body, but-“

“You? Are Lexi?” she huffs an ironic laugh and tears drip down her face again, while wind is making her long hair stick to her face.

I can’t believe this is happening.

She gasps loudly. Her voice trembling she asks: “Are you the one who killed her?”

Oh my God wasn’t one death enough. Now I’m both reliving it in my mind and experiencing another, completely different one.

“What? No. No! Amelia this is me. My heart, soul, I don’t know. Just not my body. I can tell you everything about us; you and Lexi. Our favorite place to eat is that coffee shop by the corner, our song is Total Eclipse of the Heart, your favorite flowers are lilies, you don’t believe in reincarnation, other lives, which is so ironic considering-“

“Did you made her tell you this?” she cries louder.

I rethink running towards her as another part of me breaks knowing I am now the person; the body she hates the most.

I start crying too as I say: “Look, I am just a stranger to you now, and I am sorry for scaring you but, seeing you so broken just- I couldn’t handle just looking at you, and I still didn’t realize, and-“ A thought occurs to me. “I know your tattoo!”

She recoils and starts walking backwards, pulling out her phone as she says: “My tattoo?”

“Yes! You got it last week and only told me about it. It is a blue rose, symbolizing your-“

She sniffs. “You made her tell you about the tattoo?”

“No I didn’t make her do anything I am her, and I didn’t kill her for God’s sake. Amelia I’m sorry. I will go now.”

She looks at me and I can see a track of another sadness in her eyes, as if considering, but then I hear sirens in the background, and if any piece of my heart was left it broke and now I am just a body standing. And crying.

“You called the police?”

She doesn’t answer. Just runs towards the fastest car that arrived.

Two police officers come out of the other, and I hear muffled sounds in the background as I tremble with tears, mouthing “sorry”, “please” and what not in her direction as she looks at me with horror on her beautiful face, and I know there isn’t going to be love in those eyes, not for me in this life again.

I think I started screaming from pain, my entire face wet from tears falling, and then I fall, sharp pain in my chest, last picture in my brain the love of my life hating my guts with a terrified look on her face, while the person she loved the most is dying, again, and her not even realizing it.

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There is a moment of reconsideration, and fear of going into the unknown, doing the forbidden, but as the feelings are overflowing everything else, making it impossible to make the right decision it does what that other part tells it and flows back into the known body, feeling of comfort shadowing fear, and the unknown becomes known, and vice versa, and it goes on like that for an eternity of wondering.

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I am sitting on our blue couch that she picked out. In front of me there’s a tv and I am apparently watching a tv show, and eating popcorn which I don’t remember making. A feeling of sadness and sorrow hits me as I remember what happened and I think I am going to cry when Amelia opens the door and screams: “I got it! I got the job!”

I am puzzled thinking this is a dream or my imagining it but she looks so real, like the smile on her face and even though still confused I run to hug her.

“That’s amazing muffin! I’m so proud of you.” I slowly remember she wanted the painter job uptown and finally got it after probably a month.

“Thank you!” her cheeks must hurt from smiling. I squeeze her little face before giving her a kiss and she taps over to the bedroom still giggling, texting someone about it.

I do not want to think much about this greatest gift I ever got. Seeing her pretty face, hearing warm tone, her cheerful greeting as she sees me, as if loving me all over again, I never want to leave.

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Curiosity killed the cat, though for some that is just a myth. Greatest experiences ask for more exploring, and though laws have been already broken, and fate shouldn’t be tested, sometimes the orange part containing curiosity, eagerness for new and better, wins over and one sins again.

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“Lexi!”

I turn around to see Amelia walking, no, jumping towards me, all giddy and slightly buzzed because of the cocktails she is sipping like water. I laugh just as she reaches me.

“What?” she asks concerned.

“Nothing, you are just so sweet when you are drunk.”

“I am not! Just slightly. Buzzed, as you would say it.” She giggles and lifts her gaze to see if I’m laughing at her joke.

I put her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, I love this version of you.” She opens her mouth to say something but I go: “Of course I love every version of you but this one is in top three.”

“Why? Because I am funny and tell stupid things?”

My smile fades a little as I remember her face tearful and as if betrayed, angry and sad being the far overcoming emotions, but I push it away for a second so I can say: “No, it’s because that’s when you are brutally honest. That’s when you told me you love me, and I don’t think that’s stupid. I think that is the total opposite. It’s the most wonderful, beautiful, poetic, can make a person fall in love thing I ever-“

She cuts me off with a soft press on my lips with hers and she murmurs: “I think you are a little buzzed” in my mouth.

“Yes”, I answer, “because of you.”

She giggles and pulls away a little so she can look into my eyes and ask: “Are you trying to say you’re drunk on me?” she lifts her eyebrows in the cute way she always does.

“Yes.”

She grabs my shirt gently to pull me closer and kisses my neck whispering: “Don’t be so cheesy.”

I put my arms around her and laugh as I hear her say: “But I am totally drunk on you too.”

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Only a fool stays where axes fall instead of rain, the others run into a land of forever sun and roses. One doesn’t know if the axe is tempted to fall again, as to doesn’t know the path of the next thing fate throws at them. But hope should replace money because there is always plenty, and can be given with a few kind words. So one travels into the land of sun hoping there would be no track of bloodbath they left behind, even if some other part is carrying a drizzle that could destroy them, even if from long ago, already dried.

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“Tissue! Tissue! Quick!”

“Okay, okay, here!” I laugh and give her one and she quickly wipes her tears from onion she’s been cutting.

She sniffles and I can’t stifle my bark of a laugh and try to manage: “I told you to let me do the onion cutting. And the rest anyway.”

“No, I want to have that romantic movie thing when they cook together and throw flour, and banter, and laugh because there has been a little fire in between everything…”

I snort. “Well, if you want I can throw a few pieces of onion and garlic on you, then light a candle because who knows what other ideas you have with fire you probably haven’t mentioned, and then you can yell at me as a replacement for banter after I send you back to the living room because someone has to clean that mess.”

She slaps my arm. “Well not if you’re going to announce it all like that.”

I walk toward her and push her short hair out of her face and kiss her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips and her breath hitches as our lips collide. I lift her up and put her on her kitchen counter, and I’m left standing between her legs as she slowly pulls away and opens her eyes, looks at me and goes: “Is this the moment where you say: “Is this spontaneous enough for you?”” I laugh and nod pulling her back, realizing her hair is no longer covering the small of her back, and getting a hint of a déjà vu but before I can even think about it-

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One cannot run from the past, from one’s history. It would be impossible. So the best thing sometimes is to try and cope, or try and forget. Often choosing the second one, at one point there is that part that just breaks and the wound is out, and there is a human with the blue part of sad, missing and regretting part again, one would say the most gentle and hurtable part, that only the bravest leave out on the open. And sometimes when it breaks the past just comes and we have no chance to fight against it, but to ironically live in the moment and let the emotions we don’t know where came from come to reality and cope with them for a second or two.

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Her fingertips are touching my face, and I suddenly feel a tear falling down my cheek. Oh no. What? I didn’t even realize I’m crying but Amelia is quick to pull away and examine my face carefully.

“Are you okay? Is this okay? Oh no, are you crying because of something I did?”

Horror passes my face as I quickly say: “No, oh my God no! I don’t know why I started crying, I’m sorry this never happens to me.”

She looks at me with worry for a second more before she smiles softly, putting my hair behind my ear. “It’s fine Alexandra. As long as you’re okay.” She opens her arms to say I’m welcome for a hug if I need it, and I gratefully do hug her, already feeling connected even though we obviously haven’t gotten the chance to have our first kiss yet and are still just strangers opposed to what we could be in a few months or years. Her smell is oddly familiar with love as I slowly start pulling back to touch her soft lips with mine, and feel butterflies poke the inside of my stomach with excitement, and that’s when I know there is something special about this woman.

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They say a good journey is the one after which you don’t know where else to go. What now. Wandering through time is far greater than space and after the forbidden there are certain prices one has to pay, after realizing that in the purple part that some refer to as personal karma, in which lay guilt, conscience and completely unrelated to the eye, but logical to old souls, is self love. Self love which cannot rest in peace because of the other elements of the certain part, so one has to get revenge as much as they need to pay for their mistakes. So sometimes, for a while, one has to sleep, sleep for a long time or pay quickly but painfully, rest in a body who could not fulfill the purpose of a soul who belongs to other certain people, because the body is too exhausted, being surrounded by other souls looking to pay the price of their exploring, forbidding actions. So the soul chooses to sleep, and take a break in between worlds, not belong to any for a while.